Moments of Time
by HalfASlug
Summary: The eight times the Doctor and Queen Elizabeth I crossed paths.


_A/N: So I've been working on this since about 24th November 2013 and have finally finished it. I will now go and cry in a corner somewhere (pulling myself together enough to post the second chapter in a couple of days) so please enjoy my attempt to making sure my history GCSE wasn't a waste of time._

_(This being said, even if you remove the alien and time/space ship from this it may not be 100% historically accurate but the names and dates are correct so I still get a sticker, yes?)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. It is a strong, independent franchise that don't need no man._

* * *

They heard the thud of an arrow hitting the TARDIS seconds after the door closed. Panting and holding a stitch, Martha laughed the whole way up the ramp. "Some farewell committee that was!"

The Doctor threw his coat over the coral strut, ignoring the perfectly good hat stand as ever. "Compared to some of the farewell committees I've experienced that was very nearly polite."

"You're kidding."

He gave Martha his best enigmatic smile and began flicking switches and jabbing buttons to take them back into the vortex. It must have worked because she was staring at him like he was the most fascinating creature in all of creation. It felt nice, having someone look at him like that, knowing she wouldn't be around long enough to know the truth.

"So what did you do to Good Queen Bess?" Martha asked. The TARDIS lurched a little and she was forced to grip onto the console to remain upright.

"Like I told you," the Doctor replied, pulling a lever, "I couldn't tell you."

"So you've really never met her?"

"Not yet."

Martha shook her head in disbelief. "How do you keep up with all of this? Your life being all out of sync?"

"Typical human," sighed the Doctor. "Where's the fun in living in a straight line, anyway?"

Martha snorted. "You have less people asking for your head that way."

"Exactly. Where's the fun?"

Another mile-wide grin and jaunty twist of a dial and they were both laughing again despite the bumpy ride. It was definitely better than travelling with only the sounds of the TARDIS to keep him company.

"Why do you think she ends up hating you?" Martha pondered.

The Doctor considered how best to respond. So many people he'd met ended up hating him or at least resenting him on some level. Better that than dead though. He could have a good guess as to what would eventually drive the Queen of England to want him executed but Martha wasn't to know about that side of him, not yet. Not with her naively smiling at him like that. Hopefully she'd never see him as anything other the eccentric hero with a magic box and not a care in the universe.

"Guess I'll find out someday."

* * *

As far as bad smells went the one currently filling the Doctor's nose was among some of the foulest stenches he had ever encountered. Next to him Martha was covering her mouth with the sleeve of her jacket in the hopes of blocking the miasma. Judging by her watering eyes it wasn't all that effective.

"Oh, London," exhaled the Doctor, giving the upturned bucket next to him a fond kick. "Don't ever change."

The cobbled street they had found themselves on had an open sewer running down the side of it. The black and white buildings either side blocked the sunlight, leaving them mostly in shadow. It didn't help the smell either.

"Okay," said Martha in her familiar diagnosing voice, "judging by the houses, this is Tudor England, yes?"

Sh smiled up at him hopefully and he returned it, causing her to give a slight whoop of celebration.

"I'm getting good at this."

"You've narrowed it down to over a hundred year period and I'd already given you the country," snorted the Doctor. "Hardly a 180."

Martha walked to what appeared to be the main street where a large crowd could be seen. "It was treble twenty though. And with my first go," she added with a look over her shoulder.

"Fine. Two more darts. Aim wisely."

The side street opened into another street, almost identical but sunlit and home to more shops than houses. Martha looked around for more clues as they jostled through the crowd.

"Aha!" She pointed to a sign above a blacksmiths. "By the royal appointment of Henry VIII," Martha read. "If he's on the throne that narrows it down a bit."

"It does," the Doctor agreed. "It also vastly increases Britain's divorce rate."

"So another treble top, then?"

"When did you get so clued up on darts?"

Martha simply raised her eyebrows and stalked further down the street towards the crowd gathered there. The Doctor followed, hoping he wasn't pouting. He was the one who was meant smile knowingly and leave people asking questions. It wasn't fair when people did it to him.

Eventually he caught up with Martha as she joined the masses and strained to see what the fuss was about. While he was enjoying watching Martha guess the year - she really was getting good at it - a large gathering rarely happened for pleasant reasons and he needed to get to the bottom of it.

"See anything?" Martha asked, straining to see over the toothless man in front or her.

"Not yet," he replied under his breath. "I can just make out a man stood at the front. By his clothes, I doubt he's a local." In fact, the man's wig alone looked like it might cost a year's wage to most of the people stood near him.

After much pushing and a fair bit of shoving, a cheer erupted from the front, though he had no idea why.

"Looks like an announcement of some kind," Martha squealed excitedly. "Bet it's about old Henry getting married."

"No. No betting. Always ends badly," the Doctor answered distractedly, trying to catch what had happened. "If you'd been better at Guess The Date I could probably have told you."

"Still got a throw left, mister."

The Doctor's reply - as witty as he may have thought it - was lost under the shouts and cheers. Not liking being out of the loop, he spotted a child rushing away from the front of the group, able to move more swiftly than the adults because he could weave amongst people's legs. Without hesitation, the Doctor stepped directly in front of the boy and grinned.

"Hi, sorry to bother you," he started, crouching down to the boy's level, "but can you tell me what's happening here?"

The boy blinked as though he wasn't sure how to respond to a stranger's politeness. "The Queen had a baby, didn't she?"

"Oh fantastic! Hear that, Martha? A baby!" the Doctor enthused. "Which one?"

"Which one what, sir?"

"Which Queen, which baby... Tell me what you know. And don't call me sir," the Doctor added with a frown.

"Well, s- I mean. There's only queen now, ain't there? Queen Anne. I should get home." The boy cast a unnerved look at the clueless man he'd been talking to and ran down the street.

Martha turned to the Doctor as he straightened up, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Oh no," he groaned as his supposedly faithful companion roared with laughter.

The crowd began to sing while the two of them remained stationary in the middle of it all.

"My history isn't as good as it could be but I reckon," Martha smirked, "it's 153... 6?"

"1533," corrected the Doctor.

"Ooh!" Martha hissed. "Close enough."

"We're still leaving."

Even before he could turn around, Martha had pulled him back by the sleeve of his coat, apparently still finding something funny. "She's probably a couple of days old at most! What could she do?"

"She's already disappointed her father and as good as set up her mother's execution."

Martha slapped his arm. "As that may be I doubt she's been driven into a murderous rage by an infuriating alien yet."

Gripping Martha's shoulders, the Doctor bent down so their faces were close enough for him to feel her breath on his face. The Venusian spearmint was a lot nicer than Tudor England air. "Martha Jones, you've met me. You know what I can accomplish in a couple of minutes. Who knows what I've potentially already done?"

Instead of agreeing with him like a good companion, Martha chuckled.

"You're scared of a baby."

"No, I'm-"

"I doubt she has even opened her eyes yet, Doctor."

Biting back the urge to remind Martha that it wasn't her head ending up on a pike if this trip went badly, the Doctor instead looked around for a distraction. "We should still leave."

"No chance." Martha accepted a flaggon of ale from a passing stranger and held it up. "Party just started and I've never exactly experienced a monarch's birth before."

"What are you talking about? _Prince George?_"

"Who?"

"Ah. Yes. Ignore me."

"Can't we just stay for a bit?" Martha begged. "Afterwards we can... I don't know - traumatise Queen Victoria or whatever you want."

The Doctor did his best to hide the guilt on his face but Martha's jaw dropped.

"Victoria as well?" she gasped. "Any Queens left that we could visit?"

"Um... Mary of Orange. Wonderful woman. Excellent mimic. Has never expressed the desire to kill or banish me."

"Yet," Martha giggled. "Let's just have a drink and-"

"Hang on," interrupted the Doctor, eyes locked onto someone in the crowd. "That's... That's a vortex manipulator."

"A what?" he briefly heard Martha ask before he was dragging her through the crowd after the woman he had just seen. It was rare that he ever spotted Time Agents but it was even rarer when they weren't being monumentally stupid.

They were only a few metres away when the Time Agent spotted him, noted his clothes and started fiddling with the strap on her wrist. The movement uncovered the bundle in the woman's arms, revealing a large, magenta egg.

"Oh, tell me that isn't-"

Before his sentence was complete, the woman had vanished in a flash of blue light, the people around her too caught up in the news to notice.

"Doctor, what just-"

"That was a Pedritis egg!" growled the Doctor, fumbling with his pockets. "They should not be removed from their planet or - why do I even bother? Nothing stops these idiots messing about with- here we go!" Sonic finally free from his inside pocket, he scanned the area and found the signal.

"Doctor-"

"London. 2007. Right. Allons-y!" cried the Doctor as he began running back to the TARDIS.

"DOCTOR!"

Oh yes. Martha was with him.

"Yes?"

"What was that about?"

"Cowboys of the universe have got their hands on a Pedritis egg and will likely mess everything up so we have to stop them!" he called behind him as he jumped over what he suspected was a chicken.

"And what's a Pedritis when it's at home?" Martha said as the TARDIS came into view.

The Doctor skidded to a halt in front of his ship and grinned. "When it's at home it's very peaceful. Change of atmosphere and it'll go berserk."

"But what actually is it?" Martha panted as the Doctor unlocked the door.

"There is a technical term but let's stick with giant space lizard for now."

Door open, the Doctor was able to sprint towards the console.

"So," began Martha as she joined him, "it's a proper emergency?"

"Oh yes. Going to need my trusty bow and arrow and everything."

"Not just an excuse to put nearly 500 years between you and the tiny baby Princess Elizabeth?"

Over the green light of the console, the Doctor shot Martha a disparaging look. "Just hold on to something."

Even as the TARDIS whirred into life and he was concentrating on following the coordinates, the Doctor could still feel Martha's knowing smirk.

* * *

He could have sworn he had parked the TARDIS somewhere around here. Ish. Possibly.

Maybe.

Definitely in this county, at least.

With all that had happened to his poor ship recently he'd hoped a couple of easy trips would be a decent enough 'sorry for letting you be stolen by the Master and being turned into an instrument of evil' present. It was all going so well - and then he'd stepped out of the TARDIS. Seeing as he had landed on Earth, the last thing he had expected to have been faced with was a giant otter in a hat that wouldn't have been out of place at Ascot.

He had stared at the otter.

The otter had stared at him.

He had waved at the otter.

The otter had waved back.

And then sprinted across the field he had landed in and into the forest opposite.

Once he had finally chased the otter down and discovered it wasn't an otter but a Faltoone called Jusch who had crash landed on way to his daughter's wedding, they were miles from the TARDIS. Eventually Jusch's ship had been found, repaired and was likely to at least make the night do. If Faltoone weddings had night do's. The Doctor had declined an invitation to something, anyway.

Aching, covered in alien engine grease and desperately lost, the Doctor noticed a large manor house silhouetted in the distance. Though it could make things a whole lot worse if he approached it, it could also lead to him learning where he was. Or when he was. Deciding it would be best if he used a back entrance where he could ask some of the staff for help, he left the main road that ended up at the front gates and headed over the grassy hill to sneak around the back. It wasn't that he was too worried about how he would be treated by the owners, but sometimes these things ended in him being invited to stay overnight and he didn't want to be away from the TARDIS for that long. She still wasn't quite back to normal yet.

After a short walk, the Doctor found himself scrambling over a wall and into prickly hedge. He righted himself, brushing leaves and twigs off himself and surveyed the area in the hopes no one had seen him.

Unfortunately, an older man holding a pair of sheers was staring at him in disbelief.

The Doctor stared back.

The man waved at him.

The Doctor decided he wasn't going to get into this again. "Hello, I'm the Doctor," he said, stepping forward.

Rather than reciprocate the friendly greeting, the man backed away. As though he regretted his reaction he stood taller and scowled at the Doctor. "You have no business being here. Now, get back over that wall, laddie. I don't want any trouble."

"Neither do I," he assured the man, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'm a lost traveller-"

"'Course you are," scoffed the man. "And you just happen to show up here? Today? Get away with you!"

"Okay, okay - you're right! I'm the royal hedge inspector!" The Doctor fumbled with his pocket until he found the psychic paper and thrust it under the man's nose.

"_John Smith. Royal Hedge Inspector by order of His Royal Highness King Henry VIII,_" read the man.

"See?" The Doctor pocketed the psychic paper and looked critically at the hedges. "Was supposed to be a surprise but you rumbled me - er-"

"Thomas, sir. Thomas Jackson."

"Well, Thomas Jackson, these are some fine hedges." The Doctor clapped him on the shoulder. "Some of the best in the kingdom. Good work."

Though he was covered in dirt and sweat from working in the warm weather all day, Thomas straightened his shirt and smiled proudly. "I do my best, sir. People overlook jobs like mine sometimes, but the gardens are just as important as everything else."

"Certainly! Nothing gives me greater pleasure than walking amongst the - er - greenery and thinking about... how nice it looks."

If Thomas suspected the Doctor was trying to keep him sweet, then it didn't show in his face. Though he felt bad for being untruthful, he had to admit he enjoyed watching Thomas discuss his passion. He had a point, after all. His place in the grand scale of the universe was minuscule. No one would remember a gardener and only a handful of people probably knew his name now, but he was happy with where he was and what he was doing. It was more than the Doctor could say some days.

"Lots of people do," Thomas agreed. "Especially during these awful times. The head maid was out here just this morning, just to get away from it all."

Knowing he shouldn't get involved but unable to resist a mystery, the Doctor raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"Oh, don't give me that," Thomas said, waving a finger at the Doctor. "No matter what the King says she did, she will be missed and the Princesses don't deserve this at all. Not ones so young."

The pieces were beginning to fall into place and the Doctor's hearts fell with them. "Thomas, what's today's date? For the inspection paperwork, you understand? Always forgetting the date, me."

"It's nineteenth of May, sir."

"Thanks - and stop calling me sir, by the way - and how are you spelling the name of the house?"

Thomas laughed. "I wouldn't know how to be spelling it. Surely you can spell Hatfield House? You seem a man of learning?"

"Yep. Just checking. Thanks for the help, Thomas," he said warmly. "Keep up the good work."

When Thomas had bade him farewell and gone back to the hedges, the Doctor stared up at the house. Though he hadn't been given the year, he could guess that it was 1536. At some point today Anne Boleyn would be on the wrong side of an executioner's sword, leaving her two year old daughter to be disowned by her father and stripped of her Princess title.

The same two year old daughter that was somewhere in the house in front of him.

He should really leave. Elizabeth would probably not have any memory of today, but it didn't mean that he couldn't somehow start whatever had caused her to chase him out of The Globe in over six decades time. Maybe she grew up hearing tales of the intruder that caused havoc the day her mother had been killed? Maybe he somehow ended up being accused of something terrible? One of the staff had already seen apparent proof that he worked for the king, after all, and he couldn't be the favourite person of the people that cared for his daughter.

His feet had already taken him to the back door when he decided that this was one of the worst ideas he had ever had.

The door lead to the kitchens and the Doctor was able to pass through the handful of cooks with ease. The mood was undeniably miserable and none of them looked up as made his way out. How much time had these people spent around the former queen? Were they mourning her loss? Or maybe they felt for the tiny princess who was as good as orphaned by the day's events?

By keeping his head down and pretending he knew where he was going, the Doctor avoided the detection of the sparse staff he encountered along his journey. It crossed his mind that Lady Mary, Elizabeth's older half-sister and future queen, was probably around here somewhere as well. Though she too had been declared a royal bastard, her mother had been divorced, not executed and remained close to her daughter. Elizabeth would be raised by governesses and tutors, as a parade of step mothers would pass through her life. It was rumoured that she decided at the age of eight that she would never marry after her step mother at the time was executed. In her short time on Earth she hadn't had the best impressions of what could happen to women who married.

The Doctor could sympathise with her on that score. Loving someone openly left you open to attack and losing them caused more pain than any sane person would wish to have inflicted upon them.

Eventually, he pushed open a door to see a small red haired girl sat playing with a doll's house the same size as her, a book left forgotten on the desk behind her. He watched silently as she arranged the tiny furniture around in one of the bedrooms and smiled, taking a step into the room. The girl looked up at the noise and, for the first time in her life, saw the Doctor.

Her eyes widened, her lips parted, but she recovered from her shock fast enough. She observed him, head tipped to the side. "Hello," she said.

"Hello."

As though she realised what she had been doing, Elizabeth dropped the small table she had been holding and hurried to the desk. Once she had clambered onto the chair, she opened the book and began to read.

"Are you supposed to be reading at the minute?" the Doctor asked.

Elizabeth bit her lip and nodded. "I was."

"But you want to play with your dolls?"

She hesitated, eyes flicking to her toys and back to him.

"Okay, then." The Doctor shucked his suit jacket and sat cross-legged in front of the doll's house. "Been a while since I did anything like this. I might be a bit out of practice," he said, almost to himself as he picked up a blonde china doll. "Does she live here?"

Slowly, as though not to spook the stranger, Elizabeth slid off her chair and nodded.

"She's beautiful. What's her name?"

"Jane," Elizabeth answered as she scurried over to him to take the doll and straighten her dress. She plucked a couple more dolls from where they had been placed within the doll's house to show him. "This is mother," she explained handing him a brunette doll, "and this is father." She showed him a male doll before shyly putting him back into what looked like the dining room of the house.

Elizabeth started moving the dolls around, making sure they were sat comfortably before they had dinner and tucking them into bed. The Doctor helped, being sure to follow her instructions to the word and showing just as much care. He had no way of knowing if she understood that she would never see her mother again and there was no way he was going to ask or explain it to her. Instead he helped the little girl realise her dreams of a happy home, one where little Jane was the centre of attention from both of her parents, knowing she would never experience it for herself.

He wasn't sure if he could make up for something that technically hadn't been experienced by either of them yet, but he hoped that even if she never remembered this, he had made Elizabeth happy on a day that would change her life forever.

* * *

"Do you mind? This is an expensive suit! I think, anyway. Can't actually remember where I got it from. This is all a big misunderstanding! Why don't we all-"

"Shut up!" demanded the guard, forcefully dragging the Doctor up the spiral stairs.

"All right, all right. No need to get-"

"Shut it!"

"Fine." The Doctor calmly ascended the stairs, the clink of his manacles the only sound audible over the ravens outside. "Blimey. And you thought I was loud..."

"I am warning you."

"What are you going to do?" asked the Doctor fearfully. "Lock me away in the Tower?" His wide eyes flicked around his surroundings until he found a window, giving him a lovely view of the Thames. "Oh well."

The Doctor grinned at the guard and earned himself another shove in the back.

"Seriously, though," the Doctor said, "this isn't really necessary. Or productive. I'm going to break out. Last time I managed it in ten minutes and twelve seconds and I will be trying to break my record. You'll only get in trouble... What was your name, sorry?"

The guard looked like he was pretending his charge didn't exist as he marched down the torch-lit passage.

"No need to be rude," muttered the Doctor as he was dragged through a door on the right. "I shouldn't really say this considering how friendly you've been, but aren't the cells back there on the left?"

The guard stopped, glared at the Doctor, and doubled back on himself.

"Simple mistake to make," the Doctor reassured him. "I only know because I helped design the place. Those white bits along the edges? My idea that. Will loved them. Plus he owed me one. I got him out of a tough spot in France," the Doctor explained quietly.

"Like I said," he continued at normal volume, "I know this place. Know where the best fire places are, the safest rooms... Where the skeletons are buried." He waggled his eyebrows but the guard didn't pay him any notice. Of all the people who had ever escorted him to any cell in all of time and space, this guy was by far one of the least fun.

"Probably not the skeletons you're thinking of though. Those princes? They simply went home to Jaga Four."

They turned another corner and found a guard stood outside the only cell the Doctor could see. He nodded in greeting to the one next to the Doctor who visibly sagged in relief.

"Can I stick him in there?" he asked his colleague. The desperation in his voice left the Doctor feeling mildly offended. "He won't stop talking and I can't deal with it anymore."

"Hello," the Doctor said cheerily, doing his best to wave at the other guard. "I'm the Doctor."

The guard stared at him for a moment as though unsure how to respond to such a friendly criminal. "You are aware of who is in there?" he asked, turning to the Doctor's escort.

The Doctor tried to peek through the small window in the door but his guard pulled him back. He was hoping it wasn't another version of himself in there. Getting thrown in the Tower of London was the sort of thing he'd do, after all, especially seeing as that was what he was currently doing.

"It's not like the Queen will do her any favours and it'll just be until morning," the guard pleaded. "Then we can move him. If anyone can shut him up it's her."

A heavy sigh later and the cell guard was unlocking the door to his colleague's relief. The Doctor was thrown in, the door closed before he had even righted himself.

The cell was shrouded in darkness, but the Doctor could tell it was nicer than most. Though the window was tiny the room itself was fairly spacious and even had a small writing desk. As the Doctor stood, he heard the shuffling of blankets behind him. He turned to see a short woman bounding out of bed, towards the door and began pummeling it with her fists.

"Guards! Guards!" she screamed. "What is the meaning of this? Who is this man?"

"Another prisoner," came the reply. "He'll be gone by sunrise."

"He'll be gone now." The woman prisoner's demand was met with silence."So be it. Just know you will regret this."

The Doctor couldn't help but admire how a woman, whose future could only be bleak, still spoke with such certainty. She'd clearly been in here a while and it didn't seem like her spirit had been broken in any way.

As the Doctor settled down next to the wall, the woman sat back down on the bed and glared at him. "This is an outrage," she spat.

"I know," the Doctor sighed. "Can't get the prison staff these days."

The woman tossed her red hair over her shoulder and folded her arms. Despite being imprisoned and wearing a plain night gown, the woman exuded an air of authority not dissimilar to that of a spoilt child. "Who are you?" she snapped.

"I'm the Doctor."

"The Doctor?" The woman furrowed her brow. "Do they think me ill?"

"Nope. They think me a threat to the crown," he said lightly.

"Aren't we all?" drawled the woman with a roll of her eyes. "Being imprisoned was one thing but being forced to share a cell is quite another," she huffed. "Although what do you expect with a Catholic queen?"

The Doctor chuckled. "If it were a Protestant queen I'd be in worse shape than I am now."

"Protestant queen?" the woman asked. "Forgive me, but why do you believe this? England has never had such a monarch."

The Doctor chided himself. He was quickly becoming the biggest threat to the universe's well being because he didn't know when to shut up. It had been a long day though. Still... Maybe he should listen to Guard No-Name in the future.

And the past.

"Oh, you know..."

Yep. That was the best he could do. He decided his fumble could be covered if he tried to pull his wrist out of its confines.

"Well," the woman sniffed, "it's nice to see my sister has such a high quality of enemy."

The Doctor ripped his hand from its constraint and dropped the metal onto his foot. Somewhere in the back of his head he registered that it was throbbing but it wasn't all that important at the minute.

Between the dim light and her casual dress and lack of usual makeup and jewels, the Doctor had failed to recognise the woman he was destined to spend the next six hours locked in a room with. He gulped. It was a small mercy that at least if she decided she wanted him dead tonight it would at least be a few years yet before she had the authority to carry out her threat.

"Lady Elizabeth," the Doctor said, "it is an honour to meet you."

Elizabeth was taken aback by the Doctor's sudden warmth. "Thank you. I only wish it could have been in more pleasant circumstances," she replied dryly.

"Oh, I don't know," the Doctor grinned. "An evening is only as good as the company you share it with."

Elizabeth raised a single eyebrow. "You think you are good company?"

The Doctor managed to get his second hand out of the metal cuff. He really should send Houdini another thank you card. "You could have done worse. Truth be told, I am a delight."

Elizabeth regarded him shrewdly for a moment before her haughty exterior cracked with a twitch of her mouth. "The Queen clearly disagrees."

"Nah, it was a misunderstanding," dismissed the Doctor, leaning back on his elbows. "Mainly her misunderstanding me when I said "run, that lord is trying to kill you" but at least she isn't considering marrying him anymore."

"So the Spaniard is once more in line?" Elizabeth asked with a hint of venom.

"Yup."

Apparently history being back on course wasn't as good news for Elizabeth as it was for the Doctor. "I almost wish I had tried to overthrow her," she muttered to herself before turning her attention back to the Doctor. "I don't suppose you would care to marry my sister?"

"Um..."

"Your bizarre clothing aside, you at least seem sensible enough to not tear the kingdom apart and the woman is so desperate for someone other than me to be in the line of succession."

The Doctor straightened his very un-bizarre tie. "Sensible? Me?" he scoffed.

Lady Elizabeth eyed him critically, a slight smirk on her lips. "Perhaps I can find another use for you?"

While she was a lovely cell mate, the Doctor did not like the look she was giving him. For one thing he wanted to be out of the Tower, preferably before his execution. For another he needed to leave this meeting having made no impression on Elizabeth. He didn't want the moment he upset the future queen to be while they were securely locked in a small room together.

"I-Use? I have many uses!" the Doctor insisted, taking a step towards the door. "I'm very good at putting up shelves and - and crochet. Really, quite excellent. Really."

"Really?" Elizabeth stood up and took a step forward.

"Really really."

"And what on God's great Earth is crochet?"

"Very manly pastime. I'm also very good at breaking out of cells."

Lady Elizabeth froze, her features quickly obeying years of schooling and becoming neutral. Though she was royalty, growing up as the supposed bastard daughter of a dead queen and an easily angered king, and later to watch her sister imprison and burn hundreds of people who shared her religion at the stake, life had been a dangerous minefield for Elizabeth. Keeping the right people happy and her cards close to her chest would be the only thing to save her life time and time again. Even still, the Doctor could practically hear her mind calculating whether to trust him or not as one wrong step in her current position would lead to her execution.

He felt a twinge of sympathy for her, though he remained fully aware of the precarious position he was in himself. When it came to her own reign, Elizabeth, though not as cruel or prolific as her sister, had executed several Catholics she suspected of plotting against her, including her own cousin.

"You think you can break out of the Tower of London?" she asked him in a carefully indifferent tone.

The Doctor nodded. "I've done it before."

Shock briefly flitted across her face. "I should probably tell my sister," Elizabeth remarked dryly. "It would be horrid if some of her enemies escaped being burnt to a crisp."

Under the sarcasm, the Doctor could still detect a flicker of fear. Weeks of house arrest followed by a stint in the Tower were finally exposing the cracks in her well-worn armour and the Doctor longed to reassure her. Only a few short weeks remained of her imprisonment, when she would renounce her religion and swear loyalty to the Queen. Four years later she would begin a forty-five year long reign of country during one of its most powerful periods of history, to be known as one of the most popular monarchs they would ever have.

But, right now, she was alone and scared for her life.

Casually, the Doctor leant against the door to check the guard's position. "It was lovely to meet you, Lady Elizabeth, but I really should be going."

"So you're leaving me here?" she chuckled. "How gallant of you."

The guard, shifted on his feet and adjusted his helmet. Clearly he wasn't as attentive as he had been the beginning of his shift. Half-way through the night, concentrations start to drift and opportunities could be taken.

"If I broke you out now you would be a fugitive," the Doctor explained. He fixed Elizabeth with an imploring look, a plea for her to understand. "Wait and I swear your patience will pay off."

Something in his eyes must have got through to her and Elizabeth folded her arms as though she wouldn't let herself believe him. "And how can you make such promises?"

"Simple trick," he answered softly. "Open my mouth and words come out."

She rolled her eyes. "How very clever."

"I think so. Others tend to disagree." The Doctor frowned. "And then get angry when they are proved wrong."

The Doctor hurried to the single bed and pulled the scratchy sheets off of it. If he was going to escape tonight, then he'd better get on with it. There was no telling how long it would be before someone decided he should have his own cell. Or stake.

"It's not exactly chivalrous, is it?" Elizabeth piped up. "To leave me to explain to the guards where you've gone?"

Staring at him through round eyes, the Doctor was inexplicably reminded of Astrid Peth. An entire life spent yearning to see the stars, to walk on different soil, only to be cruelly ended before her dreams could be fully realised. Still, it was some comfort that she had had that one night. One night where her face was alight with adventure, gazing at an abandoned London high street as though it were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. If only he could have saved her, the things she could have done, the things she could have seen... If only he had thought of another plan... If only he'd-

"I could kidnap you, I suppose?" the Doctor shrugged. Elizabeth took a step back and he hastened to explain before she tried to subdue him. "Use you as a hostage in order to get out. Lock you in say... The guards' quarters? Still not a place fit for a Lady but a helluva lot nicer than this and there'd be food and books to keep you entertained until they worked out how to get to you." He smiled at her. "A few hours out of here and you wouldn't be to blame in the slightest."

Her excitement was all but palpable, though Elizabeth's expression remained straight. "You think you could achieve all that?"

"Oh yes."

She gazed around as though considering it. "I do tire of these four walls. Your one night of adventure is indeed tempting, Doctor."

"And, if I pull it off," the Doctor hastened to add, rubbing the back of his neck, "you could remember this one night in case we meet again?"

Elizabeth's lips twitched as she gave him a searching look. "Doctor, I'm sure it impossible to forget a night with you."

"Um. Yes. That's..." The Doctor coughed and pointed randomly behind him. "Anyway. Door."

Mindful of his cellmate's watchful eye, the Doctor was sure to shield what he was doing as withdrew the sonic screwdriver and used it to unlock the thankfully iron lock on the door. "Now, Lady Elizabeth," he whispered, "if you could please put my handcuffs on - don't give me that look, they should be far too big for you."

Even though she shot him a glare that showed she wasn't fully appreciative of where this was heading, Elizabeth did as she was told. Once the metal was, as the Doctor predicted, loosely around her wrists, she looked at him for further instruction.

"Great! Now scream."

She raised an eyebrow. "Scream?"

"Yes, scream. Draw the attention of him outside," the Doctor replied, patience wearing thin. The longer they spoke in hushed voices, the more chance the guard would become suspicious.

"I do not _scream,_" Elizabeth laughed incredulously. "I am not a hysterical infant."

"Please?" tried the Doctor.

All hope for his plan appeared to die as her expression hardened and the Doctor was starting to lose his temper. After all, _he_ knew all women didn't shriek at any opportunity, though a lot of them used to and it could be as helpful as it was annoying. The sixteenth century thug outside, on the other hand, probably didn't.

Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Sir," she called loudly, "I demand you put that away this instant! That is quite unsanitary and not a thing a lady should ever witness-"

While the Doctor opened his mouth repeatedly in the best form of protest he could muster, the guard outside could be heard stumbling into action. Giving up on a coherent response, the Doctor fixed Elizabeth with a warning glare and stepped to the side of the door, hastily gathering the bedsheet in his arms. As he was expecting the door to be locked, the guard came crashing into the room a split second later and saw that his usual prisoner was handcuffed. Before he'd had chance to right himself, the Doctor had thrown the sheet over him and bundled him over to the window as he yelped in surprise.

"Oi! Get off- Argh!"

Though he felt terrible about it, the Doctor covered the guard's mouth with his hand. He could overpower one of them but he had no chance against the entire Tower. Seeing his predicament, Elizabeth hurried to her bed and ripped the pillowcase off and handed it to the Doctor, who awkwardly shoved it into the guard's mouth over the sheet. The shock of this made it easier for the Doctor to then drag him over the small window.

"I'm sorry," he panted, gesturing for Elizabeth to give him the handcuffs. She saw what he was trying to do and that the guard was still struggling and, instead of handing them over, roughly pushed them onto his wrist and attached the other side to the window bars. Looking proud of herself, she watched on as the Doctor tied the sheet up so the guard had little use of his upper body. It wouldn't hold him for long, but it would be enough to get them out.

"I'm so sorry," he finished as he straightened up. "But - erm - I'm off. And I'm taking her with me," he jeered in what he hoped was a convincing way. He glanced at Elizabeth who looked far from impressed. Ego bruised (surely he'd encountered enough evil geniuses to properly impersonate them by now?), the Doctor grabbed Elizabeth's hand and pulled her towards the door. "Don't try and stop me!"

"You've never kidnapped someone before, have you?" Elizabeth muttered as they crept down the torch-lit passage.

"You're saying that like it's a bad thing," he replied, not mentioning that he actually had and each time had been just as bumbling and ad-libbed.

Their journey through the Tower was short-lived thanks to the Doctor's impressive knowledge of its corridors, antechambers and security weak spots. That, coupled with his superior hearing, meant that it was barely five minutes before the pair had found a way out of the main building and to hurry over the lawn under the cover of darkness. Even though, the Doctor had subtly set his sonic off at a frequency that made the crows go berserk in way of distraction, he still made a show of pulling his fake hostage behind him. She even struggled to help give the illusion she did not want to be out of her cell if anyone did see them.

The short sprint found them in front of the guard's quarters and another locked door. He asked Elizabeth to watch out for trouble while he unlocked it before pushing her gently inside before him. The room they found themselves in appeared to be a kitchen, complete with fully stocked cupboards and a roaring fire. As one of the inner buildings, the windows were not barred but were too small for someone to climb through just in case. Elizabeth helped herself to a bread roll as the Doctor peeked out and saw the guards had regrouped after the raven attack. They didn't have long before they would be found.

Behind him, the Doctor could hear Elizabeth's hums of pleasure and decided to double lock the door with his sonic. A bit more security couldn't hurt. He grinned in satisfaction before turning to see Elizabeth regarding him warily.

"How did you manage that?" she asked with narrowed eyes.

The Doctor blew out a long breath. "Oh, you know."

"I don't," she answered, gaze flicking to the silver instrument in his hand that he quickly stowed in his pocket. "I doubt I will ever know. You are rather extraordinary, Doctor."

She smiled warmly at him and the Doctor was reminded that not all victories meant saving the universe. Sometimes making someone's night was enough to counteract the other wrongs they suffered.

"I should also be going," he told her quietly.

"Of course," she sighed. "Hopefully our paths will cross another day when time isn't quite as pressing."

"Oh, I'm sure they will," grinned the Doctor.

"Maybe by then I will be out of this wretched place," Elizabeth said in what was a fair attempt at levity. However, her exterior cracked and he saw the loneliness that could only come from a person who's only remaining direct relative had imprisoned them. He knew what she went on to achieve but, for all she knew, the next time she exited that cell would be en route to her execution. It lasted but a second and then Lady Elizabeth was back, a slight smile on her face, so much like the one Martha plastered on for months.

"Bet you are," a stab of guilt forced him to blurt out. "In fact, the next time I see you I will take you on a picnic to prove how free you are. Unless I'm caught on the way out," he amended, stepping towards the door. "Then I'll see you in five minutes."

It all sounded so surreal, the condemned royal and the escaped stranger, standing in the dark, planning for a brighter day, but after the year the Doctor had had, he had to cling to some form of hope.

"I'm sure you will be long gone," Elizabeth sighed and it almost sounded sincere.

The Doctor smiled as he left the room, hoping whatever he ended up doing to hurt the woman in front of him, it was no worse than what he had already inflicted on his friends in the past. He poked his head back around the door, the sounds of approaching guards reminding him time was running out, even his. One day, anyway.

"Goodbye, Lady Elizabeth."

"Goodbye, Doctor."


End file.
